


Baseline (Euthymia)

by prideandpre_judas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bipolar Bokuto Koutarou, Confessions, Editor Akaashi Keiji, Getting Together, M/M, Manic Episode, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prideandpre_judas/pseuds/prideandpre_judas
Summary: Bokuto has his mood swings under control, he does! But mood swings are different than cycling, and that is a lot harder to manage. Even five years after they graduate, Akaashi is still there to do what he does best: help.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	Baseline (Euthymia)

Akaashi spent all of Fukurodani’s graduation procession wringing his hands, clapping when his upperclassmen walked across the stage, and running repeatedly through the mental script he had spent the last week preparing to say.

Then, after Bokuto had been congratulated by his family and the rest of their teammates, he met Akaashi on the edge of campus. With Bokuto glowing with excitement and Akaashi with pride, they hugged tightly under the giant tree that always shaded them from the sun after outdoor practices.

That was where five things happened in quick succession:

  1. Akaashi confessed,
  2. Bokuto dropped the roll containing his diploma,
  3. Akaashi tried to catch it,
  4. Akaashi was stopped by Bokuto cupping his cheeks in his hands,
  5. Bokuto’s diploma hit the grass.



“Akaashi,” Bokuto said, voice forceful, nearly desperate. His hands were gentle, but the turn of his eyebrows showed distress. “Akaashi,” he said again, quieter. “I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.”

Akaashi swallowed. While that was exactly what he wanted to hear, Bokuto’s tone didn’t match his words. Akaashi knew there was a ‘but’ coming so he remained frozen on the spot. When Bokuto continued, his heart fell.

“But I’m just too much. I’ve caused you so much trouble these past two years, I know I have. And somehow, you’ve managed. But you’re a third year now, and captain. Then you’re going to be a college student, and then a successful author. You’re going to be _amazing_ , but not if I keep being a trouble. I’m just too much. And I can’t be the one holding you down. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not too much,” Akaashi said quietly. He didn’t say it to change Bokuto’s mind. He’d received his answer and he wouldn’t disregard Bokuto’s decision. But he couldn’t let Bokuto believe that about himself. “You’re not a trouble, and you’ve _never_ been too much.”

Bokuto smiled ruefully and pulled Akaashi closer to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

And that was that.

The confession changed nothing about their relationship. Akaashi never stopped loving Bokuto, and Bokuto never stopped loving Akaashi. But Bokuto never stopped believing he was too much, and Akaashi never stopped wishing he could prove him wrong.

Bokuto signed onto a team just after graduation and moved away, but that barely changed things either. They never stopped texting, or skyping, or spending weekends together when they could. Akaashi hadn’t become an author, though he was still working on getting there one day.

Instead, it was 2018 and he was sitting in a hotel room in northern Japan reading through the proposal of the mangaka he’d met with that afternoon. He’d liked the potential author, but even just the preliminary reading was tedious. Even worse was trying to decide whether the shounen was too cliché, or if they could make it unique enough to be worth publishing.

So when his phone rang, he dropped the proposal with a thankful sigh, and jumped off his bed to grab his phone from the charger. “Bokuto-san, aren’t you usually asleep by now?” he asked the moment he’d answered, sitting back down at the small, hotel-room desk.

“I’m too excited to sleep,” Bokuto complained, his energetic voice automatically drawing a smile from Akaashi. “Next week is our first official game with Hinata since his debut. ‘Sumu has been _sooo_ annoying about it.”

Akaashi shook his head, knowing Bokuto wasn’t one to talk. “I’m sure you’ve been annoying about it too—”

Bokuto began to protest, but Akaashi continued,

“—It’s another official game with your greatest disciple, after all.”

Bokuto guffawed at that, and Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“It’s an Osaka game,” Bokuto stated, as though he hadn’t sent the season schedule to Akaashi a dozen times since it was released. “I made sure to get you tickets anyways. In case you’re able to make it.”

Akaashi leaned back in his chair. “I’m up north right now, but I should be back in Tokyo by the weekend. I’ll come if I can make it in time.”

Bokuto hummed with a tone of satisfaction. “Good. You know I’ll be the best on the court, just for you.”

As much as Akaashi wanted to be flattered by the comment, there was a grandiosity in Bokuto’s voice that startled him. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it long.

“Whatcha working on up north?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi walked back to the bed to get Bokuto’s input on the new proposal.

But after the call ended, Akaashi had nothing to distract himself from the way Bokuto had been acting. Akaashi could always tell when Bokuto was entering a larger swing. It wasn’t like his mood swings during high school practices or games, where he could snap back to normal once he got back into the rhythm of the game.

When Bokuto was entering a real swing, it often started with an excess amount of pride and a voice loud even by Bokuto-Standards. But steadily, he would become irritable—on and off the court. He did a better job of hiding it off the court. He just grew stiff and quiet, and stared at his feet a lot more to hide the on-edge glare he couldn’t suppress; but it was clear he was having trouble focusing, and that sounds and touch bothered him more than usual.

On the court it was a little more obvious. Each time he missed a receive, or a spike got blocked, he just froze for a moment, fists clenched as he tried to calm his breathing. Then he exhaled slowly and accepted the “don’t mind” from his teammates with a forced smile that was almost believable.

Of course Akaashi recognized it. If not by his jerky movements and frustrated facial expressions, then by the way he sat separate from their teammates during water breaks, or how he waited until everyone had left before he went to change, then just slid down to the floor with his back against the lockers and rested his head on his knees as he tried not to cry.

Akaashi had simply known him for too long to be able to ignore the signs of a manic episode.

So when he made it back to Tokyo on the day of the game to find Bokuto’s tickets waiting for him in his P.O. box, he left almost immediately to make good on his promise. Though he was late, he managed to make it to the stadium just as the last set began.

But from where he was at the back of the packed stadium, he could see Bokuto on the court, breath leveled in an unusual way, as he squinted at the ball, clearly struggling to focus; and he knew what that meant. “Oh no,” he murmured under his breath.

The rotation left Bokuto in the back just as the other team’s pinch server was brought in, and it must’ve been clear to the other team that Bokuto wasn’t on his A-Game, since the serve went directly towards him. Bokuto narrowly made the receive, but his form was sloppy, and Atsumu was just barely able to set the ball to Sakusa.

The rally continued for a long while—and in the end, Hinata was the one to slam it down and score the point for the Black Jackals, but the coach signed to the ref just as the whistle blew.

Akaashi watched closely at how Bokuto deflated when the coach called for a timeout, and at the end of the timeout when Bokuto remained at the bench and the reserve wing spiker walked out to the court, Akaashi muttered, “Oh shit.”

The tightness in Bokuto’s shoulders kept drawing his attention, but Akaashi still watched the Black Jackals pull through the set narrowly and secure the win in Hinata’s first official match. The team came to greet the crowd, Bokuto trailing behind unemphatically, receiving concerned glances from Hinata and Atsumu.

Akaashi clapped and hooted out Bokuto’s name, but wasn’t loud enough to be heard from the back. After the team headed towards the locker room, Akaashi let himself be pushed along the exiting crowd before heading towards the hallway where he knew the players would exit from after their post-game brief.

He bounced on his heels outside of the locker room door, but it wasn’t long before the door creaked open, and the chatter and tired groans of the team filled the hallway.

“Akaashi-san!” Hinata shouted as soon as he was out the door and bounded up to him. “Bokuto-san was worried you weren’t going to make it!”

Akaashi smiled at him. “I only made it for the last set, but I caught that first spike. And your jump serve was amazing. You’ve improved so much, Hinata!”

Hinata beamed at the praise, but grimaced a little when Akaashi continued:

“I wanted to say hi to Bokuto-san. Is he still in the locker room?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t doing so hot today. I think coach is talking him down. You can go in though, I’m sure you’re who he wants to see.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi replied and patted Hinata on the back before pushing the door open. Stepping inside, he couldn’t see Bokuto, but he did see Samson leaned against the wall, head bowed slightly and talking to someone lower than him. Though when the door shut, he looked up. They’d only interacted a few times, but Akaashi had been invited to enough team events as Bokuto’s plus-one that when he saw Akaashi, relief wiped away the worried crease in his brow.

“You did good today, Bokuto,” he said before kicking off of the wall and passing Akaashi, setting a hand on his shoulder. Akaashi gave the coach a nod before carefully walking around the lockers to where Samson had been standing to find Bokuto sitting on the ground, head in his hands.

He looked one small noise away from clamping his hands over his ears.

“Hi, Bokuto-san,” he said softly, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt when Bokuto tensed up rather than relaxed when he heard Akaashi’s voice. He sighed slightly and set down his bag before sitting down on the bench in front of Bokuto. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for the full game. But I caught the last set. I’m sorry the coach pulled you.”

“No,” Bokuto said through his teeth, and Akaashi was saddened to hear how strained his voice was. “I asked him to bench me. I didn’t want to screw it up for everyone. I’ve been off all week.”

Akaashi was about to reach forward to set his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, before he thought better of it and asked. “Can I touch you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto didn’t respond for a moment, but eventually shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t apologize, I understand. Do you want to be left alone?” Bokuto shook his head again, so Akaashi set his hands on the bench and lowered himself so he was just sitting across from Bokuto, rather than above him.

Then they just remained in a limbo of silence and tension as Bokuto breathed deeply and Akaashi fiddled with the hem of his sweater, waiting as Bokuto did what he needed to.

And eventually, he lifted his head from his hands and leaned back to rest it against the lockers. Although he wouldn’t look directly at Akaashi, Akaashi was just glad to see his face.

“Let me take you home,” Akaashi requested, and Bokuto quietly obliged, standing off of the grimy floor.

They didn’t speak on the drive. It was clear Bokuto was trying to keep it together, but once they made it to Bokuto’s apartment, Bokuto fumbled with his keys and when they fell to the floor he dropped into a squat, biting his sleeve, every muscle in his shoulders tensed as he tried not to scream in frustration.

Akaashi bent over to pick up the keys and unlocked the door. He stood back to let Bokuto inside, but he didn’t follow immediately. Hesitating in the doorway, he waited for Bokuto to turn back towards him.

“Can you stay for a while?” he asked, and Akaashi nodded.

Once he had closed the door behind himself, he opened his arms. In seconds, Bokuto had closed the distance and pulled Akaashi into a tight hug, face buried in his shoulder. Akaashi had barely had time to wrap his arms around Bokuto before he felt him trembling. Akaashi tugged on his Black Jackals jacket to pull him towards the couch and once they had settled in, Bokuto began to cry.

Although it broke Akaashi’s heart to hear his chest-rattling sobs, a silent Bokuto was much more unnerving than a noisy one. It was a small relief that Bokuto could finally make the noise he needed to in order to calm down. Akaashi just set his cheek against the top of Bokuto’s head and let him purge his frustrations into Akaashi’s embrace.

“What set this off, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked after Bokuto’s sobs had died down to sniffles.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice hitching slightly but muffled by Akaashi’s sweater. “I’ve just been sleeping less and less and I haven’t been able to fix it.”

“Have you been taking your medicine?”

Bokuto took a moment to think then said. “Oh. I might have missed a dose Sunday. I forgot to refill my pill sorter on Saturday.”

Akaashi knew even one dose could throw him into a spiral if he was already leaning towards one. “How can I help?” he asked softly.

Bokuto was quiet for a moment. “Can you spend the night? Being alone just makes it worse.”

“Of course. And we’re going to try our best to get a good night’s sleep. Go take a shower, Bokuto-san. I’ll make tea.”

Bokuto hesitated for a moment before reluctantly pulling himself from Akaashi’s arms and standing up. “Sorry I cried on you,” he said, lowering his hands to Akaashi. Akaashi couldn’t help but smile slightly, taking Bokuto’s hands and allowing himself to be pulled up from the couch.

When he was standing properly in front of Bokuto, he said, “It’ll dry soon, all is forgiven.” Then he added softly, “But that’s the last sorry I want to hear from you tonight, Bokuto-san. Don’t apologize for things you can’t help.”

Quietly, Bokuto reached forward and readjusted Akaashi’s glasses, smoothing down the hair that had been disturbed when Bokuto had so violently fallen into Akaashi’s arms. “Okay,” he replied. Then stepped back and headed for the bathroom.

Akaashi watched him go before he made his way to the kitchen to fill up the kettle, where he saw the sink full of unwashed dishes. Bokuto had been honest when he said he’d been off all week. So he set the kettle on the stove and rolled up his sleeves to get to work tidying the kitchen.

When Bokuto emerged from the shower, he was wearing sweat pants and a Fukurodani sweatshirt (he’d long outgrown his high school size, so this one he’d bought at the last reunion). He still had a towel slung around his shoulders and was drying out his hair that now lay flat against his forehead. Although he was flushed from the heat of the water, he looked significantly more relaxed than when Akaashi had found him in the locker room. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen. “’Kaashi, sorr—” at the glare Akaashi sent him he stopped and rephrased, “Thank you. But you don’t have to do those.”

“I want to,” Akaashi said, turning back to the sink. “The tea should be done steeping. I left room for you to add milk to yours.”

When Bokuto didn’t respond, Akaashi turned back towards him to see Bokuto looking right at him, and was surprised when he realized this was the first time that they’d made eye contact all night. He was less surprised, only flustered, that he was wearing his _What-Did-I-Do-To-Deserve-You_ expression. “What—” Bokuto began, but Akaashi didn’t think he was in the headspace to accept Bokuto’s earnest statement, and interrupted.

“Can you put a bit of sugar in mine?”

Bokuto wasn’t disappointed that Akaashi wouldn’t accept his praise. In fact, his smile grew a little wider. “Should I put on a movie?”

Akaashi shook his head. “Not tonight. We should put our phones away too. The less stimuli the better right now. Don’t you think?”

Bokuto wasn’t disappointed by that either.

The reason being alone was worse for Bokuto during a manic episode, was that he didn’t have the realization that he needed to cut certain things out. Bokuto knew how to cope, but in the middle of an episode, overwhelmed and upset, he could forget. Sometimes he just needed a reminder.

Akaashi was beyond thankful that Bokuto let him be that reminder.

Bokuto pulled his phone out of his pocket, then walked forwards. He rested his head momentarily on Akaashi’s shoulder as he fished Akaashi’s phone from his sweater’s right pocket. Then he turned back around and placed both of them in the drawer with the pot holders.

“One of my mangakas sent me a proposition for a new series,” Akaashi said as Bokuto grabbed the milk and sugar and moved to prepare the tea. “Wanna help me tear it apart?”

Bokuto snickered and accidentally added too much sugar to Akaashi’s mug. He thoughtfully didn’t apologize. Instead he grabbed the tin of butter cookies from the pantry and precariously balanced the tea on top, “Of course. Join me when you’re done,” he said before taking the drinks into the living room to settle in on the couch.

Once Akaashi finished the dishes, he wiped down the counters with a soapy towel, dried off his hands and opened the drawer to retrieve his phone. He quickly responded to Hinata that he and Bokuto were safely home, then shut it down entirely before closing the drawer again and meeting Bokuto in the living room, where Bokuto had stretched out to occupy the whole couch. Akaashi opened his messenger bag to fish out the proposal before sitting down on Bokuto’s feet, who laughed, but made no move to free himself.

Akaashi glanced at him to see that his fidgeting was still particularly bad as he played with the hem of his sweatshirt. Akaashi took his tea in one hand and set his other on Bokuto’s shin, gently massaging where he knew Bokuto’s shin splints bothered him the most before he began to read from the proposal open on his lap.

After a cobbled together dinner and a quiet evening spent reading, Akaashi suggested going to bed early and Bokuto followed him to the bathroom.

Akaashi watched Bokuto in the mirror as he opened up his pill sorter and set his mood stabilizer on the counter before leaning down and drinking straight from the faucet and swallowing his pill. Then he watched Bokuto hesitate before following it with a sleeping pill.

“Could you get me a pillow for the couch?” Akaashi asked after swishing the toothpaste from his mouth. When he straightened back up, he saw Bokuto staring at him incredulously.

Neither he nor Bokuto had slept on the couch once since Akaashi was a first year.

Akaashi smirked slightly and Bokuto picked up the hand towel to smack Akaashi lightly on the back of his head. “Ouch,” Akaashi laughed but noted that the reception of his joke seemed much more in line with Bokuto’s normal mood and sighed in relief as he followed Bokuto from the bathroom, turning off the light behind himself.

In the bedroom, Bokuto tossed an extra pillow onto Akaashi’s established side of the bed, and Akaashi smiled at him. “Good night, Bokuto-san,” he said as he turned off the light and slipped under the comforter.

“G’night, Akaashi,” Bokuto said. Then, quieter, “Thank you. For everything.”

Akaashi rolled towards him, and in the dark reached out until his hand rested against Bokuto’s cheek. ‘You’re welcome’ wouldn’t be the proper response, since the fulfillment of Akaashi’s innate desire to give Bokuto anything he needed was something he should thank Bokuto for. But there was no way for him to put that into words. At least not now. Instead he leaned forward and kissed Bokuto’s forehead.

When Bokuto woke up, it was to the sun streaming in through his window—which, with his normal wake up time being before dawn, was an unfamiliar experience.

A very familiar experience, however, was Akaashi’s head resting on his shoulder, Akaashi’s hand on his chest, and Akaashi’s leg thrown over his hip. No, that was something he’d been waking up to since he was a third year in high school and already helplessly in love.

Bokuto smiled and ran his hand reverently through Akaashi’s hair before straining his neck to see the clock and finding it well past 9.

Carefully, he disentangled himself from Akaashi and stood up from the bed. Then he grabbed a set of running clothes and his shoes before sneaking out of the room. Bokuto wouldn’t risk waking him when he needed rest so badly; so Bokuto changed in the living room. He grabbed his phone from the drawer to check his messages from the night before as he did his pre-exercise stretches, then was out the door.

The cool air on his face as he jogged kept him from overheating, and though his heart was beating heavily, it wasn’t beating quickly, as it had been for nearly a week. And he laughed lightly at the relief of it all before speeding up.

His jog was longer than usual, so he wasn’t surprised to hear the coffee machine running when he stepped back into his apartment. He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of recently ground coffee beans and vanilla syrup that always accompanied mornings with Akaashi.

When the door shut behind him, Akaashi peered out of the kitchen. “In here,” he said.

Bokuto strode to the kitchen with a bounce in his steps and leaned against the counter as Akaashi made himself a cup of coffee. He knew Akaashi wouldn’t make him anything with caffeine while he was manic, so he moved to the sink to fill up a glass of water from the tap so he could sit with Akaashi as he drank his coffee. Though before he could fill up his glass, he noticed the blender sitting in the sink. It was full of soapy water, made nearly opaque by remnants of yogurt and protein powder. Bokuto looked over his shoulder to Akaashi who pointed to the fridge. When he opened the door, there was a smoothie front and center and the warm feeling in Bokuto's chest swelled.

“How are you feeling today?” Akaashi asked, as Bokuto grabbed the smoothie from amongst his sports drinks and moved to grab the protein powder container from the cabinet, since Akaashi was too disgusted to add as much as Bokuto liked.

“ _Much_ better. And my run felt great too. I’m going to talk to coach soon about yesterday. I’m expecting a few extra drills to make up for my mess ups, but he texted me after the game and I think everything’s going to be fine,” Bokuto said as he mixed another tablespoon into his drink.

Akaashi clearly noticed how animatedly he was talking and tilted his head in mild concern, but Bokuto shook his head.

“I know. I’m not baseline yet. But I’m dropping, ‘Kaashi. I’m really doing better. Promise.” He took a deep breath to calm himself another degree, then fixed Akaashi with a look that’s intensity clearly startled him, judging from the way he dropped the sugar spoon onto the counter. “Thank you,” Bokuto professed.

Akaashi didn’t break eye contact, but he didn’t respond either. Bokuto had been keeping track of when Akaashi would accept thanks and when he wouldn’t. He recognized Akaashi wouldn’t accept this particular thanks, but he felt the reason to say it anyways. He needed to say it because Akaashi wasn’t taking care of him as his high school ace who needed to be coddled by his team. Akaashi took care of him because he well and truly _cared_.

And Bokuto wished he’d realized that sooner. “You’ve always been there when I need you,” he said. “Even when I’ve tried to hide that I needed help. I don’t want to be a burden for you—”

“You’ve never—”

“I know. I know now. Not just that you’ll always be here, but that I’ll always want you here.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened, making it clear that he understood the real meaning behind those words.

Bokuto continued, “‘Kaashi, when I graduated—” but was interrupted by Akaashi clapping his hand over Bokuto’s mouth and his incontestable “ _wait_.” Bokuto’s eyes widened at the sudden movement, but nodded and grabbed Akaashi’s hand off of his face to clasp it between his own hands, still cold from his run.

Akaashi took a deep breath and repeated: “Please, wait. You know how I feel, Bokuto-san. How I’ve felt this whole time. But I need to know this is what you really want, not what you want when you’re feeling… Impulsive.” He pulled back to meet Bokuto’s gaze again, hoping he hadn’t offended him, but Bokuto’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Alright,” Bokuto conceded. He knew fully that he wouldn’t change his mind. But he understood Akaashi’s hesitation. “I’ll wait.”

There was a tentative smile on Akaashi’s face, but also concern. Bokuto did know how Akaashi felt. He knew he was cruel for making Akaashi wait so long for him. So he would wait for Akaashi as well. He would do this right.

“Our next game is in Tokyo,” Bokuto said over the phone a few weeks later. In the background, Akaashi could hear the locker room chatter and the collective excitement about the next game.

“I know. You’re getting me a ticket, aren’t you?” Akaashi asked. He was mostly paying attention to the newest chapter of Tenma’s manga, but he immediately recognized that the cheer in Bokuto’s voice seemed far more stable than before his last game.

“Mhm,” Bokuto hummed. “It’s already in the mail.” There was the telltale sound of his locker slamming shut, then he pulled the phone away from his mouth to shout his goodbyes to his teammates on his way out. “The guys say hi,” Bokuto supplemented.

“I say hi back.”

“Aw I already left. You’ll have to tell them hi after the next game,” Bokuto said playfully. Then, since he knew all of Akaashi’s tones by heart and had deduced Akaashi’s level of distraction matched editing instead of proposal reading, asked: “How is Tenma?”

Since it was in Tokyo, Akaashi made the game on time and watched the Black Jackals enter the court, raising cheers from the stadium.

Akaashi didn’t know how Bokuto always managed to find him in the crowd, but he did. They locked eyes as he first stepped onto the court, and during his first serve he pointed directly to where Akaashi was sitting as the crowd cheered _Bokuto Beam._ Akaashi smiled and clapped along. Bokuto slammed the ball down just behind the middle line, the libero missing the receive by a fair margin.

None of the servers dared target Bokuto that game, and the classic underestimation of Hinata’s much-improved receives was instrumental in the dozens of digs he managed across the sets.

At the end of the match, Bokuto was at the front of the team as they greeted the crowd. He and Hinata jumped high before bowing low, and Akaashi rushed to the back of the stadium and down the stairs to the locker room. The post-brief meeting took longer than Akaashi felt capable of waiting, but when the doors finally swung open, Bokuto was the first to step out, and Bokuto swept him up into a hug.

“You made it,” he exclaimed, lifting Akaashi off of his feet. Akaashi’s scarf fell off his neck at the sudden movement but Hinata swooped it up at the last moment.

“I made it,” Akaashi grinned right back. “Your serves were incredible,” he told Bokuto when he was set back down on his feet, then to Hinata he said, “And nice receives, Hinata. Our ballboy is all grown up.”

Hinata stuck out his tongue playfully like Karasuno’s bald wing spiker would when teased, before dropping back into his normal smile and handing Akaashi his scarf. “We’re all headed out to a bar to celebrate, are you coming, Akaashi-san?”

“Me and Akaashi actually have plans tonight,” Bokuto answered for him.

“We do?”

“We do,” Bokuto grinned and slung his arm over Akaashi’s shoulder. Then he turned to Hinata and the rest of the team, who had filed out after the two energetic outside hitters. “I’ll catch you guys later!”

Akaashi waved politely before he was pulled away from the locker room and led back to his own apartment by Bokuto.

After turning on the lights and shrugging out of his coat, Akaashi asked: “What are our plans?” for the third time, hoping that now that they were back home, he might get an answer. Bokuto just headed straight for the kitchen and pulled out the rice cooker before reaching into his gym bag.

“‘Sumu stole these from Myaa-sam for me,” Bokuto said as he pulled out a bag of rice and a package of dried nori seaweed, “So I know we have the right brands. You have salmon, right? That’s the one thing I didn’t think I should leave in my locker all day.”

“I have salmon,” Akaashi nodded, still a bit startled. “Are you making onigiri?”

Bokuto smiled as he opened the bag of rice and began measuring into the rice cooker. “ _We_ are, if that’s alright with you. I don’t know how to prepare the filling.”

Akaashi silently pulled salmon from the freezer to defrost in the microwave and began on the filling while Bokuto cut the seaweed to size.

Then they were standing side by side, shoulders brushing, as they packed the rice into balls and Akaashi chuckled softly at how poorly they were doing with measuring out the right amount of filling. At his laugh, Bokuto glanced at him, then looked back down at his hands as he carefully wrapped one of the balls in seaweed. “’Kaashi,” he started, and Akaashi wished they weren’t cooking, because the grains of rice falling from his hands made it clear how badly they were shaking. “I have to apologize.”

Frozen in place, he let Bokuto take the rice ball from him to wrap. Though now he had _nothing_ to do with his hands, which was even worse. “What for?”

“For sucking so bad. And making such a mess of everything.” Setting aside the last onigiri, Bokuto leaned against the counter to look Akaashi in the eye before saying. “I’m so sorry for not understanding you in high school. I had loved you since long before graduation. But I thought it was selfish of me to love you. I didn’t want to drag you down, so I rejected you. But it’s been five years, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I know I’m not the paragon of stability…” he paused for a moment. “Did I use that right?”

Akaashi couldn’t do more than nod.

Bokuto smiled, adjusting Akaashi’s glasses with the back of his hand (his palms still sticky from the rice) and continued, “But I’m learning new ways to deal with my episodes every day. I can’t be perfect. No matter how well my medication works or how many coping mechanisms I have to rely on, I can’t be perfect for you. But I won’t be a burden either. I want to be there to support you like you’ve always supported me. I want to help you when you have to write rejections for any of the manga proposals you don’t like. I want to be able to come home and make you dinner after games instead of drinking with my teammates. Keiji, if I’m not too late, I want—”

Careful of the salmon still covering his hands, Akaashi kept his hands awkwardly at his sides and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Bokuto’s lips. “You’re not too late. I told you,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. “How I feel about you hasn’t changed. And you are perfect, Bokuto-san. You’ve always been perfect for me.”

Bokuto’s surprised expression shifted quickly into a grin. He tried to bring his hands up to cup Akaashi’s cheeks but Akaashi caught his wrists.

“No!” he shouted, showing Bokuto his own palms to remind him how sticky his hands were. “I’ll never wash that out of my hair!”

Bokuto laughed and pulled his wrists free to slide his fingers through Akaashi’s and pull him a little bit closer.

Akaashi suddenly forgot how badly he wanted to wash his hands as Bokuto leaned in to kiss him again.

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto said, breath warm against Akaashi’s cheek. “For taking so long.”

Squeezing Bokuto’s hand, Akaashi shook his head. “All is forgiven,” he said back. How could it not be, when the man he’d been in love with for seven years was finally in his arms—when _finally,_ Bokuto understood that he wasn’t too much. “But don’t apologize for things you can’t help.”

And Akaashi watched the star in front of his eyes align as a poorly wrapped onigiri crumbled beside them—a disgrace to the Miya legacy.

**Author's Note:**

> Me writing this as a comfort fic for when I’m feeling manic: *water bubbling*  
> Me realizing I wrote 3k in a day which is usually a sign I’m entering a manic period: bruh I think I fucked up my soup
> 
> MOSTLY KIDDING!! thank you for reading this!! i hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> and these are useful tactics for coming down from a manic episode! especially forcing yourself to rest. getting the right amount of sleep is the best thing you can do for yourself when dealing with a mood disorder.


End file.
